


you've been on my mind

by subtlyimpulsive



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fairies, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11261259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlyimpulsive/pseuds/subtlyimpulsive
Summary: In which oikawa is a summer fairy because there's really nothing more fitting than that, and iwaizumi is Done™.college student iwa meets summer fairy oikawa who's the kind of dumbass that spent basically all of summer swooning over iwa from afar, only to realize winter in japan is fucking freezing and he has no way back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry too much about the specifics about fairies and their powers, and you're all set. 
> 
> ridiculously and honestly hopelessly late gift for @thescarletmama on tumblr for the iwaoi exchange, but hopefully i can make up for lateness in writing a fic for the first time in actual years? they deserve so much better, i am so sorry.

Later, Tooru will adamantly state that this was all Ushiwaka’s fault. Ushijima, as the resident winter fairy, thinks that’s absolute bullshit (and he’s not wrong), but being the polite asshole that he is, he won’t call Tooru out.

Tooru keeps running until he's absolutely positive Iwaizumi won't hear him any longer. He picks a shady spot under a random stairwell and peeks around the corner, refusing to relax until he sees Iwaizumi walk in the opposite direction towards his university. 

He'd been doing so well, keeping his distance from Iwaizumi while slowly inching his way closer. (Every once in a while he can hear Suga laughing at him, but honestly Suga can shove it, because Tooru can actually see Suga's own lovesick eyes at Sawamura and it's sickening.) 

Summer had been absolutely fantastic, and once Tooru had noticed Iwaizumi’s biceps, he may or may not have slightly increased the heat, revelling in Iwaizumi’s subsequent annoyance with shirts of all kinds. Tooru probably spent an alarming amount of days swooning before Suga got tired of laughing at him and pushed him to “just talk to him, for god’s sake Tooru, I’m not getting any younger here.” 

So that was how Tooru had found himself in front of Iwaizumi’s apartment door, hand raised and ready to knock on a late Sunday afternoon. He had known that Iwaizumi was inside, studying at his desk because it was Iwaizumi and Tooru didn’t (and still doesn’t) know anyone more hard-working. Tooru had fixed his hair for the tenth time in just as many minutes, adjusting his clothes that he’d picked on a whim from a semi-crowded store (because despite his bizarre investment in humans and their culture, he wasn’t entirely sure what was considered fashionable these days). But fucking Ushiwaka and his goddamn wind had swept in like a frosty reminder that summer should have been over two months ago, and the next thing he knew Tooru was passed out on the floor. 

By next morning, Tooru had been on the verge of stretching, just barely waking up, when he had realized with an abrupt jolt that Iwaizumi himself was on the phone and crouching a whole two goddamn inches away from Tooru’s face. When the other man leaned closer, presumably to figure out who the fuck was passed out in front of his apartment on some random morning, Tooru rolled over, praying with all his heart that it looked decently natural. 

By some miracle of Tooru’s boss probably, Iwaizumi had straightened up and left, returning just a few minutes later with a jacket that he draped over Tooru’s shoulders. His hands clumsily shifted the jacket around, and Tooru squirmed more with every passing second. Once morning had come and the sun was up again, Tooru hadn’t actually been all that cold, and the jacket combined with the proximity of Iwaizumi just made Tooru itch with the urge to do _something._

“I-!”

Tooru shot upright, mouth open ready to introduce himself, confess his crush, kiss Iwaizumi, _anything_ to escape.

Iwaizumi had stared back at him, unblinking and blank with surprise. 

“Bye!” Tooru had squeaked, forcing a pinched grin and fleeing the scene.

Which brings Tooru back to his current predicament, having stood up and bolted as fast as he could, with minimal amounts of screaming and crashing as he ran from Iwaizumi’s apartment.

“Suga,” he hisses at his friend, who has somehow appeared next to him just in time to laugh in his face. “Suga what do I do?!”

“Well I mean,” Suga says with a sparkle in his eye and oh lord, that is never a good sign. “You could always just, you know, talk to him.”

“Me?” Tooru screeches, pressing a hand to his chest feigning shock. Iwaizumi, by now, is a block away, heading towards his university. Not that Tooru knows where that is, of course.

“Oikawa, just go talk to him. Use that cheesy bravado that seems to work so well on all the girls.” Suga nudges him with his shoulder in the direction that Iwaizumi went, and Tooru lets his shoulders sag.

“Whether or not you want to talk to him, you should at least explain this morning,” Suga adds thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. “Looks like you might have to thank Ushijima after all.”

Tooru bristles. “Hell no,” he says, scrunching up his nose in disgust. 

Suga stares at him with a grin that Tooru recognizes all too well. He’s seen it work wonders on Sawamura. “Look, you can either go embarrass yourself in front of your second-grade crush, or you can apologize to Ushijima for wasting this opportunity he’s given you. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ve already been stalking him for the past two months, might as well make something of all that effort.”

For all that he loves Suga, Tooru does not trust a single word coming from his friend’s mouth. If this was just a matter of another summer fling (which, ha you are not nearly as funny as you think you are, Sawamura), he doesn’t doubt that he would’ve been all over Iwaizumi weeks ago. From the very beginning, that was all Iwaizumi was ever supposed to be. Tooru had been planning and counting on finding someone to chase after for the first month of summer, heavily flirt with during the second month of summer, and possibly sleep with in the third month, just in time for autumn to roll around and for Tooru to bid goodbye. He has a tried and true formula, and he had been so damn close to sticking with it.

Tooru didn’t think that he would ever be this stupid over one person, but here he is all the same, unable to bring himself to head in Iwaizumi’s direction. 

He sighs and peeks around the corner again, though Iwaizumi has long since been out of eyesight.

Suga pats him on the shoulder, gentle smile on his face. “Wanna brainstorm shitty background stories for you on our way to the university?”


	2. Chapter 2

Talking to Iwaizumi, apparently, is both easier and more difficult than Tooru expects.

Suga and Tooru wander the halls of the university, Tooru clutching Suga’s sleeve while the latter stares at nearly every single passerby, trying to find Iwaizumi. Tooru thinks he might cry. His wings are itching from being folded against his sweater and he’s sweating from all the layers. 

“Suga,” he says, watching the fourth guy awkwardly sprint in the opposite direction after having made eye contact with Suga for a solid four minutes. “Suga, why are we here again?”

Sugawara turns to face Tooru, impatience lining the edges of his absolutely ruthless smile. “We are here,” he says, prying Tooru’s fingers from his sweater, “because I am tired of listening to you thirsting over someone and not doing anything about it. So today, you’re going to talk to him.”

With that, Suga shoves Tooru into the nearest classroom, slams the door shut, and walks away.

Tooru swears he can feel the seams of his life coming apart. He stands in front of the closed door, listening to Suga’s footsteps fade out and waits a good ten seconds before he starts slowly banging his head against the door. 

“Uh.” 

Tooru spins around, eyes wide. 

“Can I help you?” A tall and lanky boy stands up from his desk by the window, approaching Tooru with all the trepidation of one trying to avoid frightening a small animal. He looks sleepy considering it’s late in the afternoon, but then again Tooru supposes that every person on this campus seems like they could use another day’s worth of sleep anyway. 

“Hi!” Tooru folds his arms behind his back and beams, smiling and tilting his head at the exact angle that wins people over. “Yeah actually, I’m looking for someone named Iwaizumi.”

“Huh, Iwaizumi?” The boy scratches the back of his head, glancing at the ceiling thoughtfully. For a terrifying moment Tooru worries that there might possibly be more than one Iwaizumi at this school and he’ll have to use first names. 

“He should be in the art room,” he says finally with a hum, and Tooru almost sighs in relief. “Oh, you probably don’t know where that is, do you? I can show you the way.”

Tooru smiles again and nods, too anxious and confused to bother being concerned.

“I’m Matsukawa,” the boy says as they head down a hallway. He glances at Tooru out of the corner of his eye, as if gauging his reaction.

Tooru really hopes he isn’t trying to hit on him. 

“Oikawa,” he says in response, forcing friendly cheer into his voice. “Nice to meet you!”

Matsukawa just looks at him again and hums.

They walk in silence for a little while longer, Matsukawa leading the way through the maze of corridors and hallways and eerily similar classrooms. Tooru wonders if all schools are this ridiculously large. It’s late afternoon, but there are still small streams of students wandering on campus, flitting from one class to another or drearily making their way back to a bed. He thinks he sees Suga somewhere in the distance, a tuft of gray hair among blacks and browns, but before Tooru can say anything, he crashes into Matsukawa’s back.

“Ah, he’s still working,” Matsukawa says to nothing in particular, apparently unaware of his sudden stop and Tooru rubbing his nose. “Well,” he sighs, opening the door and gesturing for Tooru to enter, “there he is.”

Iwaizumi is sitting at an easel in the dark, concentrating on painting a silver kettle bathed in light on the opposite end of the classroom. Tooru inhales sharply, the sound just barely hidden below the quiet orchestral music floating through the room.

“Hey.” Matsukawa raps his knuckles on the edge of the doorframe, leaning his head against the wall. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“Tell Hanamaki to go fuck himself,” Iwaizumi says without glancing up from his painting, and the moment is shattered.

Matsukawa snorts. “Hiro is still in class, which you would know if you looked up for once and opened the goddamn curtains maybe.”

At that, Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but sets down his brush, careful to not lose any paint. He turns to face them, and Tooru feels his heart pounding. He knows exactly what Iwaizumi is about to ask, there is no avoiding it. Suga had quizzed him on fifty different answers for it on their way and Tooru had drafted another fifty backstories to go with those answers but he still doesn’t feel ready.

“Who are you?” 

“I’m your guardian angel, Iwa-chan!” Tooru chirps, raising his arm in a lazy salute.

Next to him, Matsukawa doubles over in wheezy laughter.

If anything, Iwaizumi’s frown deepens. “I’m sorry, what?”

Tooru laughs easily and brightly, head thrown back. “I’m just kidding, I’m not actually your guardian angel. I just wanted to say th--”

“No, not that, you look nothing like an angel,” Iwaizumi says dismissively, waving his hand. Tooru makes an offended noise in the back of his throat, but he’s too distracted by Iwaizumi’s hands to really put on a good show. Iwaizumi’s got specks of muted green and deep blues along his fingers and a bright streak of red on the back of his hand. “I meant, what did you just call me?” 

Matsukawa is now crouched on the floor, his entire body weight being supported by the wall as he cackles with laughter. Tooru decides that if he makes it out of this alive, he’ll need some horrible nickname for Matsukawa as payback.

“Only your real name,” Tooru says, crossing his arms and raising his chin. He knows Iwaizumi’s first name, but at least he’s got enough tact and self-awareness to not use it (yet).

“Who the fuck are you and how do you even know my name?” Iwaizumi asks again instead, looking up at the ceiling exasperatedly. He looks about ready to throw his hands in the air. Tooru almost feels bad, but he’s mostly just proud; it’s already been two minutes so far and he hasn’t fainted yet.

“I’m Oikawa Tooru.” He beams and steps towards Iwaizumi, hand outstretched and waiting for a handshake.

Iwaizumi looks at his offered hand with blatant suspicion, squinting.

“I wanted to thank you for this morning,” Tooru continues, switching topics. Goading Iwaizumi is fun, but he’d also like to avoid getting punched in the face, and he really does sort of owe him anyway.

“...This morning?” Iwaizumi somehow manages to look even more suspicious now, leaning away from Tooru completely at this point. “What happened this morning?”

“A walk of shame!? I can’t believe you, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa calls from his spot by the door. He’s got his phone pulled out and is grinning from ear to ear. “I’m texting Hiro a live news-report edition of this.”

“What the fuck does that even mean? And didn’t you said say he was in class?!” Iwaizumi turns to Matsukawa, irritation all over his face and Tooru is absolutely disgusted by the wave of fondness that washes over him. 

Suga was right, he’s got it bad and they’ve barely even talked. 

Tooru clears his throat in what he hopes is the most obnoxious way possible. “Iwa-chan, here I am trying to offer my sincere and heartfelt thanks, but you still look so grumpy!”

Matsukawa starts laughing again. “Iwaizumi, where did you find this guy? Please never leave,” he says, glancing at Tooru in between fits of wheezy laughter.

“Look, if you’re just here to ha--” Iwaizumi cuts off his own sentence and Tooru can see the exact moment that he finally gets it. His mouth opens in surprise and he points at Tooru wordlessly. “You’re the kid,” he says, almost triumphantly.

“The kid? What, no, please, I’m like the same age as you.” Tooru tosses his head and huffs, though in all honesty he’s not even quite sure of his age. He might be several hundreds of years old, but at least his appearance is young enough that he passes for a university student. 

“Kid, child, person lying in front of my apartment door this morning, passed out cold.”

“I have reasons, okay,” Tooru interrupts, voice bordering on slightly hysterical, before Matsukawa can do more than look confused. “No need to reveal my secrets, gosh.”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow expectantly and wow, that is so not fair. “Well?”

“I-- uh,” Tooru opens and closes wordlessly. He could lie to Iwaizumi, it would be the easiest answer, but at the same time he hates lying and always feels lightheaded afterwards. _Lying is no way to start off or build a relationship_ , Suga says from somewhere in the abyss of Tooru’s mind. 

“You see,” Tooru says instead, laughing sheepishly and scratching the back of his head, “I live in the same apartment as you, just a floor lower and I must’ve been really drunk and accidentally mistaken the floors.”

Matsukawa hums in understanding, but Iwaizumi doesn’t budge from his squinty-eyed suspicious glare. “You sure didn’t smell like booze though,” he says.

“Can’t you just accept an answer as it is?” Tooru asks, huffing. “I’ll even buy you dinner as thanks.”

True to his college student status, Iwaizumi’s eyes light up and even Matsukawa looks interested. Tooru beams triumphantly, his plan has worked flawlessly. There were of course, sacrifices and losses and Tooru definitely felt like a stalker, not to mention his head is still sort of spinning from the lying, but overall Tooru will absolutely rub this into Suga’s face as a victory. 

“Dinner? That works for me,” says Iwaizumi, suddenly looking interested in leaving his easel for the first time since Matsukawa and Tooru showed up. He begins to pack up his paints and wash his brushes, while Matsukawa texts furiously and grins.

Tooru rocks on his heels excitedly. “It’s a date then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't mind me as i totally make up the rules of this fairy verse on the fly ahahahhhhhh... i'm going to try to stick to a weekly update system, but we'll see how that goes. this is the second fic i've ever actually published and the first time it's been more than one chapter long, so bear with me as i flail. but i was really excited to post this chapter, so i've got hope!
> 
> i tried rereading this and checking for any errors, but please let me know if i missed anything! feedback is very much appreciated, but more than anything else, thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Most of autumn passes by in a blur of _Iwa-chan Iwa-chan Iwa-chan_ for Tooru, especially with Suga being too busy to visit Tooru much. 

(“Some of us have actual jobs,” he tells Tooru as if his job is any different. Besides, they both know Suga’s spending half of his time on the job just ogling and flirting with Sawamura, so Tooru still thinks he has absolutely no right to act superior.)

But in any case, it gives Tooru more freedom to spend almost all of his time with Iwaizumi, who for some unknown reason, has not bothered to cut off connections with Tooru until they’ve become Iwaizumi-and-Oikawa. 

Tooru wanders into Iwaizumi’s art classroom every day without fail. Sometimes he distracts Iwaizumi from his paintings and they break out into rowdy fights and laughter, and other days he finds Iwaizumi waiting for him, arms crossed and bag packed, and they head towards the library or cafeteria. 

His favorite days though, are when he and Iwaizumi sit together in silence. 

Those are the days that Iwaizumi devotes his attention to his paintings, forcefully ignoring Tooru’s presence until he forgets entirely about Tooru. Tooru thought he’d be more childishly jealous, but he finds himself rather glad for the quiet. Iwaizumi leaves the window behind him open at Tooru’s request, and he basks in the one ray of sunlight, wind combing through his hair as he watches Iwaizumi slowly build his layers of paint. It’s days like that, when Tooru is draped over a chair and dozing while Iwaizumi works on yet another still life, that his mind drifts. He lets himself imagine letting his wings free of sweaters and shirts, he imagines himself telling the truth to the only people he’s ever thought would care, and he imagines himself with Iwaizumi.

Tooru finds himself beginning to develop a little bit of an obsession with Iwaizumi’s hands, as a result of these quiet work-sessions. He can’t help it, he’s honestly surprised it never happened earlier, but Iwaizumi’s hands are calloused, just a tiny bit larger than Tooru’s own. His skin is tanner, thick veins rising along the backs of his hands and blunt fingernails roughly cut short that belie the gentleness of Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi is almost constantly covered in paint splatters and ink stains of some sort and of varying colors. Tooru resists the urge to rub his thumb along the freckles of blues and pinks and greens on Iwaizumi’s wrists and fingers. 

The painting days are also when Tooru can relax, burden of constant white lies lifted for an instant. His headaches have been slowly increasing, with every pointed question that Matsukawa and Hanamaki ask. Tooru can’t bring himself to tell the truth, not when Iwaizumi always gives him such a curious look, guard lowered and his expression open and trusting. But god, _oh god_ , Tooru’s lost count of the number of times he finds the words hovering at the tip of his tongue, secrets waiting to burst forth with every glance at Iwaizumi. 

“Hey, Oikawa, where do you work?” Matsukawa asks him one night, leaning against the greasy cushions of the restaurant. 

They’ve decided to cram together for dinner, a small celebration of Iwaizumi’s nearly-complete portfolio that’s schedule for display shortly after New Years. (By now, Tooru has long since learned that Hanamaki and Matsukawa will take each and every excuse they can get to celebrate, be it Iwaizumi’s near-completion, actual completion, or closing of his showcase.)

Matsukawa’s posture is relaxed, arm slung around Hanamaki’s shoulders and eyelids drooping from alcohol and laughter, but there’s a glint to his eyes that sets off alarms in Tooru’s mind. He stares at Matsukawa, feeble smile wavering and palms beginning to sweat. 

“Oh my god, can you imagine this kid working an actual job?” Iwaizumi laughs as he cups his glass of beer, completely unaware of the tension. Another wave of fondness washes over Tooru, and he beams despite the growing guilt gnawing at his heart. “He’d get fired in a day, it would be such a disaster.”

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru protests, faux horror written on his face. “After all I’ve done for you, and everything we’ve been through, you still disrespect me like this!”

“Please,” Matsukawa says, leaning forward. He’s removed his arm from Hanamaki, and looks like a predator in every sense. Tooru thinks if he tries hard enough, he can see the fangs in Matsukawa’s lazy grin and the claws wrapped delicately around his beer. “There’s so much we don’t know about Iwaizumi’s dear little Tooru.”

“Even after all this?” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow and Tooru thanks every deity he can think of for Iwaizumi’s existence. “C’mon Matsukawa, he’s been hanging out with us since what, the end of summer? It’s almost winter now, and you’re saying you still don’t a lot about this talkative and narcissistic asshole?”

“Alright, alright, not all of us can have PhDs in Oikawa,” Hanamaki snorts, drumming his fingers on the table. “But Iwaizumi, even you’ve gotta admit it’s strange that your boyfriend’s never invited you over to his place when he lives just a floor below you, no?”

Tooru sweats. He can barely focus on the conversation, distracted by the fear creeping its way up his throat and his pounding headache and his wings itching desperately against his shirt. He quietly tightens his grip on the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt and contemplates running for the bathroom. He briefly wonders if Hanamaki would tackle him.

“Literally no one said we were dating, you little shit,” Iwaizumi grumbles, voice breaking through Tooru’s daze. 

Tooru shakes himself enough to manage a weak, “Yeah Mattsun, some of us are considerate of our roommates.”

Hanamaki blinks, face blank as he looks at Tooru in surprise. “A roommate? You never mentioned that before, Oikawa. Who is it?”

“His name’s Sugawara. He’s been super busy and a little stressed lately, or else I would’ve introduced you guys already,” Tooru says and his head spins. Suga’s going to fucking murder him when he finds out about this. 

Matsukawa narrows his eyes, as if trying to contemplate something deep and mysterious. _He must be really drunk_ , Tooru thinks blandly.

“He’s not the gray-haired one who you were with on the very first day, is he?” Matsukawa’s predatory glare is gone, as if it were never there in the first place. Instead, he looks vaguely constipated and confused. _Maybe I’m just really smashed_ , Tooru wonders, and he squints at the empty cans on the table, hoping it’ll stop his vision from swimming. He’s pretty sure he can’t actually get drunk, but maybe tonight is a night for things to be ruined.

“Yeah, yeah! That’s him, he’s one of my best friends. Kind of an ass, but I love him, y’know?” 

To his left, Iwaizumi glances at Tooru with an undecipherable glint to his eyes. 

Humming, Hanamaki brings his beer can to the table with slightly more force than necessary and Tooru jumps at the sound. “I think,” he says, drawing the syllables out in a way that screams _hammered_. “I think we should not let Issei drink any more.”

Matsukawa turns to him, offended. “Excuse me, Hiro, but have you seen yourself? You’re definitely the drunkest out of all of us, and that’s saying something, considering Oikawa went through a shit ton of glasses.” He shoves at Hanamaki’s head and then leaves his hand there, frown giving way to a stupidly soft grin as he starts carding his hand through Hanamaki’s hair.

Tooru pretends to retch, and to be completely honest, he doesn’t have to try very hard. His head is still spinning, like it’s a planet caught in Iwaizumi’s gravitational pull (and fuck, if Tooru thought he wasn’t screwed before, waxing poetry is a new low even for him) and wiping his palms on his jeans has done absolutely nothing to get rid of the clammy sweat. 

“C’mon guys,” Iwaizumi sighs, and Tooru lets himself sink against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, face buried into his hoodie and only slightly nauseous. “Let’s call it a night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, feedback is very loved and thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried to post this earlier but something went weird so i'm trying again ;o;

The air outside is crisp and it cools Tooru’s palms, but does little to ease his headache. He can’t quite bring himself to fill the silence with chatter like usual, and he knows it’s worrying Iwaizumi from the way the latter keeps glancing at Tooru on their way back to the apartment complex. 

_Gotta call Suga,_ Tooru reminds himself, heart still pounding from the memory of Matsukawa’s unwavering stare. He won't hesitate in calling either Hanamaki or Matsukawa his friends, but he’s not blind enough to miss the fact that dinner had been entirely unfriendly. Matsukawa’s pointed questions had been more of an interrogation than anything else and it was a slap to the face and a splash of ice water for Tooru, telling him that his cover is up, his time is over, and _they know._

_Gotta call Suga. I have to call Suga. Suga can help. I can’t forget to call Suga. Call Suga. Call Suga. Call Suga. Call Su-- ___

__“Oikawa!” Tooru grunts as Iwaizumi bumps into his shoulder, waving a hand in front of Tooru’s face._ _

__Iwaizumi is entirely too close, and Tooru bites down on his instinctual yelp of surprise. “Iwa-chan, rude!”_ _

__“Stop trying to think, your brain isn’t ready for that,” Iwaizumi says, but the concern in his face says something entirely different. _I’m worried about you_ , Tooru’s brain helpfully supplies as a translation. Maybe Iwaizumi is right about his brain. _ _

__“I’m fine,” Tooru sniffs, tilting his chin up and crossing his arms. “A brute like Iwa-chan wouldn’t understand the finer mechanics of the great Oikawa.”_ _

__Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother dignifying Tooru with a response._ _

__They continue to walk in silence, Iwaizumi with his hands stuffed into his pockets and Tooru wondering if the sidewalks were always this wide and the streets always this long. How has he never noticed these things before?_ _

__“Look,” Iwaizumi starts, face pulled into a stubborn scowl that usually means he does not, in fact, want to look, but has decided that it’s for the greater good and therefore must be done. _That’s Iwa-chan,_ Tooru thinks wryly, unable to be anything but exasperatedly fond. “I’m sorry if it bothered you, what Matsukawa said.”_ _

__Tooru blinks. Matsukawa had definitely bothered him, but he’s not quite sure how Iwaizumi knows. Besides, it was Tooru’s fault anyway, considering how he started this entire thing and just let it snowball. Suga's words come back to him and he shivers. _Lying is no way to start off or build a relationship.__ _

__“If . . . if it makes you that uncomfortable, I uh, I can ask him to stop doing that. And, um, I’m sorry for not being a better friend.” Iwaizumi looks incredibly uncomfortable now, even more so than that time Tooru nearly blackmailed him into doing public karaoke together. He’s hunched over, shoulders almost pressed to his ears, and he won’t meet Tooru’s eyes._ _

__“Iwa-chan?”_ _

__“I might, uh, I. . . I might need some time to myself though,” Iwaizumi finally says, pained. He runs his hands through his hair and lets out a frustrated noise. “Fuck, why is this so difficult?!”_ _

__“Iwa-chan, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”_ _

__Tooru really doesn’t. For all that he’s not thinking very clearly now, it still doesn’t make sense to him if Iwaizumi is referring to Matsukawa’s questioning. There’s a possibility that Iwaizumi did, indeed, pick up on Matsukawa’s apparent suspicion of Tooru (though in that case, Tooru thinks it’s more likely that Matsukawa and Hanamaki would’ve pulled Iwaizumi aside and told him clearly), but Iwaizumi’s words don’t quite line up._ _

__“What do you mean you have no idea?” Iwaizumi finally looks at Tooru, expression a mix of incredulousness, suspicion, and outright confusion. “You know, when he called us boyfriends?”_ _

__Relief washes over Tooru and he laughs despite himself, despite the world spinning, and despite the ground falling from underneath his feet. “Iwa-chan,” he says breathlessly, feeling safe for the first time that night, “Iwa-chan that literally did not bother me at all.”_ _

__Iwaizumi squints at him, and Tooru resists the urge to flick him in the forehead. “Are you sure? You’ve been weirdly quiet all night, but you definitely tensed up after he said that and you’ve been looking like shit since then.”_ _

__“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just--” Tooru looks away, and the guilt comes back. “I just had a little bit of a headache. That’s all.”_ _

__Iwaizumi regards him for a moment, letting silence fall over them. “Alright,” he says finally, “if you say so.”_ _

__He bids Tooru goodnight then, and heads to his own apartment._ _

__The moment Iwaizumi is out of sight, Tooru leans against the wall and sinks to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest. He stays like that, just breathing and wondering what he did to deserve someone like Iwaizumi._ _

__Iwaizumi, for all that Tooru claims otherwise, is actually ridiculously smart. He’s not going to university for the fun of it, and although he is focusing in art, Tooru has seen the kind of bullshit that the professors have been forcing Iwaizumi to study, and it might as well be quantum physics and multi-variable calculus. (Granted, Tooru has studied neither of those and he may know the ins and outs of summer weather and nature, but he can’t tell anyone jack shit about math.)_ _

__It’s only a matter of time before Iwaizumi finds out that Tooru’s been lying to him this whole time._ _

_I need to call Suga,_ Tooru thinks, pulling out his phone and tapping in Suga’s number with shaky fingers. He waits for a few moments, drumming out a random rhythm on his knees while the phone rings. 

__“Oh thank god, Tooru, I was just about to call you,” Suga says suddenly, voice a rush of warmth._ _

__“Suga, I--”_ _

__“He left, Tooru, I don’t know what to do.”_ _

__Tooru pauses, the rest of his words caught in his throat._ _

__Oh._ _

__Right, he’d nearly forgotten about Sawamura._ _

__“I told him, I told him everything, about us and our jobs, because he saw my wings, he saw my wings, and oh god, I don’t know what to do.”_ _

__The human phones have a way of distorting voices, running along the line of just barely recognizable and could-pass-as-an-entirely-different-person. Suga, over the phone, sounds hollow and faint, but for once Tooru’s not sure if it’s the phone’s fault._ _

__He lets Suga ramble for a little while longer and presses his face to his knees, as if he could make himself any smaller. He can’t burden Suga with his own problems at this point, not if Suga’s this worked up about Sawamura._ _

__Not for the first time, Tooru finds himself caught in a dilemma he hates. He makes his decision without any hesitation though, and crushes the small twinge of selfish regret that follows._ _

__He takes a deep breath. “Well Suga, never fear!” He projects as much false cheer as he can, and he hopes the phone mangles his voice enough that Suga won’t be able to pick up on the hollowness. “The great matchmaker Oikawa is here to help you with your love troubles! What happened exactly?”_ _

__In his left ear, Suga rambles about Sawamura, the stupid lovesickness in his voice coming through, despite the layers of pain and confusion and hurt, and the phone’s best efforts to make Suga sound like not-Suga._ _

__Tooru curls up on himself and tries not to feel alone._ _

__Iwaizumi’s face won’t leave his mind._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is much appreciated (let me know if i missed any weird formatting or grammar and such), and thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The transition from autumn to winter basically just amounts to Suga suddenly having a ton of time to spend moping around Tooru. Despite his best efforts, Tooru can’t immediately fix whatever issue Suga has with Sawamura, so for the first time since it’s all begun, he doesn’t visit Iwaizumi’s campus.

“Suga,” he calls, lying on his friend’s couch and staring at the ceiling. “Suga, why am I here again?”

Suga sniffs and does not bother looking at Tooru from where he’s huddled underneath a blanket, next to the couch. “Because you want to help me, your best friend.”

Tooru rolls onto his side and thinks of Iwaizumi’s studies of light on metal and laughter. 

He had slipped so easily into Iwaizumi’s life, the boy had made room for him like it was something simple, and Tooru can’t help but wonder if it’s possible for him to slip just as easily out. He sees hypothetical-Iwaizumi waiting at the door of the art building for all of a few minutes before shrugging and heading to the library alone, unperturbed. Their small group of four down to a trio, filling in the empty space like Tooru had never been there to begin with. 

But his disappearance doesn’t go entirely unnoticed, at least if Hanamaki’s reaction to running into Tooru by the supermarket is any indication to go by. 

“Where have you been lately?” Hanamaki asks him in place of an actual proper greeting. 

Tooru tightens his grip on the plastic bag full of random groceries (mostly ice cream) that Suga sent him to buy. It’s not the first time he’s seen Hanamaki since the celebratory dinner, but it’s the first time in long enough that he suddenly feels self-conscious and more aware of everything.

He raises the bag, as if it’s an explanation. “Break up,” he says.

Hanamaki raises an eyebrow. “Is that why Iwaizumi’s been so moody lately?”

“What?” Tooru scrunches his face in confusion. He hasn’t been able to talk to Iwaizumi lately, and it’s bothering him more than he’d like to admit. “No, not my breakup, I’d have to be dating to break up. Stupid Makki. My roommate’s going through some issues with his boyfriend, and I’ve taken it upon myself to help him, like the kind soul that I am.”

“Right,” Hanamaki says, tapping on his phone. 

He lets out a small grunt when Tooru drapes most of his body weight over his back, arm slung across his shoulders and brazenly reading his texts. “Oh? You and Mattsun, huh?” Tooru pokes at Hanamaki’s hair.

“Leave my perfectly functioning _friendship_ out of this, you shithead. I don’t need to deal with any more drama than what you and Iwaizumi create.”

“Drama?” Tooru presses his free hand to his chest and leans back, bumping his head against Hanamaki. “Me? I would never, I can’t believe you’re accusing me, the great Oikawa, of such a thing!”

He can practically _hear_ Hanamaki rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah,” he says, shoving at Tooru until he finally relents. “Just figure out whatever it is that you and Iwaizumi need to figure out, because it’s driving the rest of us crazy. I can’t take much more of this.”

“What is there to figure out? Iwa-chan is my best friend,” Tooru says.

Hanamaki throws his hands into the air and stomps off, muttering something about Mattsun and bets. 

Tooru stands on the sidewalk for a few beats longer, waiting until the purple of Hanamaki’s windbreaker disappears into the crowd before he heads back to Suga.

“I’m back,” Tooru announces, closing the door behind him. The bag rustles as it bumps against his leg when he takes his shoes off, and Tooru hopes the ice cream hasn’t melted yet. 

He hands the bag to Suga, who is still buried under layers of blankets and probably hasn’t bothered to move since Tooru left. “Welcome back,” Suga mumbles instead of any sort of thanks like a normal person. Tooru needs new friends. 

“I’m going to make tea,” Tooru announces, even though he knows Suga will refuse a cup on the basis that he’s _eating ice cream Tooru, only heathens mix hot and cold food._

The kitchen has traces of Sawamura all over it, and Tooru tries not to feel like an intruder. He opens every cabinet until he finds the mugs and teabags. Suga and Sawamura were living together, and as far as Tooru knows, should still be living together. It seems like Suga’s taken over the apartment while Sawamura’s gone off elsewhere, but Tooru at least has enough decency to not ask. 

_Ha, take that Iwa-chan._ Tooru grins to himself as he sets the kettle to boil.

While he waits for the water, Tooru wonders what it would be like if he and Iwaizumi lived together. He imagines Iwaizumi waking up before him (because Tooru is a lazy bum and they both know it), padding out of bed and wandering into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast while mostly asleep. Tooru would wake up and eat with Iwaizumi, waving him off to school and welcoming him home.

Tooru waves away the thought when the kettle starts to wheeze (he needs to tell Suga to stop letting Sawamura be so frugal because that cannot possibly be safe). 

He hasn’t seen Iwaizumi since a day or two after the celebratory dinner, and New Year’s is already just around the corner. He doesn’t -- he can’t -- blame Suga for what’s been happening, but at the same time, Tooru wishes he could spend more time with Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi hates texting so their primary method of communication had amounted to Tooru walking over to Iwaizumi’s university every afternoon. With that gone, Tooru’s life has been exceedingly Iwaizumi-deprived.

As if on cue, Tooru’s phone buzzes.

 

 **Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** hey

 **The Great King Tooru:** Iwa-chan!!!!!!

 **Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** Haven’t seen you around in a while  
**Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** Your sorry ass best not be sick and trying to hide it  
**Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** Again.  
**Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** But anyway  
**Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** My showing is open a few days early, wanna come

 **The Great King Tooru:** YES  
**The Great King Tooru:** YES YES YEEEEEEEEEEEEES

 **Iwa-chan!!!! σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡ :** Cool I’ll meet you in the plaza on new years eve

 

Tooru’s phone buzzes again.

 

 **Makki ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ) :** Dont fuck this up my dude

 **The Great King Tooru:** no one wants this more than me!! u can trust me makki!! (⌒▽⌒)☆

 **Makki ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ) :** Yeah yeah  
**Makki ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ) :** Have fun on ur date  
**Makki ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ) :** Don’t forget protection

 **The Great King Tooru:** mAKKI NO

 

Grinning, Tooru slips his phone back into his pocket and suddenly finds himself much more excited for New Year’s Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! much love <3

**Author's Note:**

> Oikawa is in charge of summer, Suga is autumn and Ushijima is winter.


End file.
